


Send-off

by mcicioni



Category: The Magnificent Seven (1960)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24714748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcicioni/pseuds/mcicioni
Summary: A companion piece to "Leave-Takings": it can be read either before or after it. Vin's perspective on what happens on their first night away from the village.
Relationships: Chris Adams & Vin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10





	Send-off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BethLange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethLange/gifts).



> For BethLange, in response to her prompt.
> 
> All my thanks to darcyone for quick, ever-patient betaing.

Colder than a witch’s tits, Vin thinks, pulling the blankets tighter around himself and glancing up at the night sky before closing his eyes. He can’t wait to be back across the border, where there are saloons, and hotels where a man can sleep between cotton sheets, or at the very least barns with soft straw. A roof over his head. Something like stability.

He thinks of Chico, who right now is probably toasty warm next to his lovely girl – unless her folks insist on a priest saying the right words first. He half-grins to himself: with or without priests and pastors, more power to them who find someone to share their bed, and their life.

He rolls over onto his other side, away from the fire and from Chris, and opens his eyes again. After they cross the river, he and Chris will go their separate ways. Not enough to keep them together, apart from a few memories. A hearse going up Boot Hill. Riding together to meet men, making an offer. A couple of conversations, feelings cautiously fenced in behind carefully chosen words. Almost, but not quite a friendship.

They’ll have a last drink or two, say “See you around” and never see each other again. That’s their life – as Chris explained to Chico after the first battle, _People with a hold on you, none._ Whatever Vin would like is irrelevant. He’ll be left with memories – and each memory of a lost companion, dead or gone his own way, is as if some animal had bitten a chunk out of him; you move on because you have no choice, but the wound’s still there, still open. 

_Some wounds fester. Others heal._ O’Reilly’s voice is slow, sober.

Vin jumps and stares. No. It’s not possible. He’s gone _loco_ , plumb crazy, out of his mind. They’re all around him: O’Reilly is squatting and whittling on a small stick, Harry is standing at Vin’s feet, Britt is sitting and studying a piece of cactus, Lee is a little apart, looking down.

Vin shudders, the cold of the night mixing with dread. Then he gets a hold of himself. “You’re just a dream, right?” he asks. “Not some warnin that my evil ways are goin to lead me straight into fire and brimstone?”

 _We would never interfere with your evil ways,_ O’Reilly drawls, his face creasing in a smile.

“The three kids who followed you around said that you died to protect them,” Vin says. “So you must’ve died happy. And …” the word surfaces from under who knows how many layers of memories, the word used in funeral services by the Lutheran pastor in North Platte, Nebraska, “ … justified.”

 _Absolved from sins,_ Harry says pensively. Then he crosses his arms and barks out a short laugh. _Yeah, I was raised a papist. But don’t you spread it around, or else I’ll come haunt you every night._

“I’ll keep my mouth shut, especially with him,” Vin laughs, jerking his thumb towards the other side of the fire. He won’t ask any of them where they are now; they don’t look all that unhappy, that’s enough. “Glad you turned up, Harry. I never managed to thank you for savin his life.”

 _Losing him would have lost us the whole kit and caboodle_ , Harry says, then falls silent. There are several questions Vin would like to ask him about Chris, but at least one of them would be serious trespassing, and he should stop being curious anyway. 

He shoves these thoughts aside and looks at Lee. “And I’d like to apologise to you. For misjudgin you. From day one.”

Lee smiles, the first real smile since the night he and Chris met him. Amazing what a difference it makes. _You didn’t misjudge._ He adjusts his tie, his eyes serene and kindly. _I was on the run, bluffin to hide the fact that I’d lost my nerve. Glad y’all helped me to retrieve it._

Britt drops the cactus, unravels his long legs in one quick, smooth movement, stands up and looks Vin over. _And what’re you going to do next?_

“Dunno,” Vin shrugs. “Maybe I’ll head for California, see what’s goin on there. Need to find some work soon, this trip left me flat broke.”

 _Well,_ Harry says, frowning, _You going to hightail it to California and leave old Chris here all on his lonesome?_

Vin narrows his eyes. “Chris don’t need a bodyguard,” he snaps.

Harry’s reply is mild, with a wistful smile. _No, he don’t. He needs a friend. Someone to watch his back. Someone to have a laugh with._

 _Someone with his feet on the ground,_ O’Reilly says, putting his whittled stick down beside Vin’s bedroll.

 _Know a man in New Mexico,_ Britt says. _Name of Coleman. Got himself a small spread near Las Cruces. Turned it into a stage relay station. Could do with a couple of good guns._ He blows out a little air, looking worn out by his long speech.

Vin looks from one to the other of them, and for a moment he’s back in the Lutheran church at North Platte, and the pastor is quoting from Genesis, _But the Lord beheld the man made in His likeness, and He beheld his solitude, and He said, It is not good that he is alone._ True, he thinks, and then admits to himself that what the men are suggesting is exactly what he has wanted, ever since he saw Chris walking towards that hearse.

He nods at them. “All right. I’ll mention it to him. See what happens.”

 _Good,_ Britt says. _So long._ And he quickly fades away, leaving Vin wishing that he could have had the time to get to know him, to learn more about what lay beneath all his silences and brief words.

 _All we can do is reach out._ Lee’s Southern drawl is soft, resigned. _While we can. Good luck to you both._ He takes a graceful step sideways and disappears.

 _Hope that you can quit drifting some time,_ O’Reilly says slowly. _Find some place where you can stop. Work. Settle._ And he’s gone, his good wish lingering in the air behind him.

 _Take care of each other,_ Harry says. And Vin is alone before he can say good-bye. It’s not so cold now, the air around him is warm as he burrows into his blankets and drifts into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The dawn light slices through his eyelids. He opens his eyes, remembers, feels dizzy and befuddled, and runs to the creek to dunk his head in. But the friendliness of the send-off is still around and inside him, and when he walks back to his bedroll he sees the small whittled stick beside it. He slips it into his jacket pocket before Chris can notice and ask questions. He smells coffee and smiles. He’ll mention Las Cruces first chance he gets.


End file.
